The Dying of the Light (Book 3): Beginning (36 page)

“Just do things like you normally do, Hodges, and everyone will come out of this fine. Don’t forget, Juliet team has you covered from the tree line, and our snipers are a damn sight better than yours. One false move and you and everyone at the gates is dead.”

Hodges nodded in acceptance and sat up a little straighter.

Maybe he did have some backbone after all.

The gates to the bunker were wide open and rusted. Without a closer inspection, O’Reilly couldn’t be sure, but he was confident that they hadn’t closed in years. The rest of the facility that he could see wasn’t in much better shape. The paint from the AEGIS logo on the giant steel doors was almost gone, and the steel-and-concrete road barriers sat covered with years of dirt, grime, and who knew what.

There didn’t appear to be any mounted machine gun emplacements, which would make this easier. But it raised the question of how these people had survived Z-Day… unless Pennsylvania in general wasn’t hit as hard as the rest of the country. Plausible, but it didn’t explain where all the guards were.

O’Reilly didn’t see anyone until they were right up on the bunker’s vehicle doors. Even then, they waited a moment before a guard cracked open the personnel service door. Unshaven, yawning, bleary eyed, and with no uniform, he could have been a guard or a civilian. Either way, the man was drunk and stumbled across the doorway. He had to use the open door to keep himself upright. He yawned again and gave them a “go ahead” wave as he slammed the smaller door shut and the bigger doors began to roll open.

O’Reilly was amazed, even with all they had seen of this bunker so far. It took a second for him to realize they hadn’t moved, and he jabbed Hodges in the ribs to get them going once more. The vehicles moved forward side-by-side and stopped on the main vehicle elevator. The “guard” then set them in motion to the lower levels.

Grinding noises were never pleasant when you rode an elevator, and these were awful. They made O’Reilly wonder if they’d even reach the lower levels. Everyone was at the ready now and waited for the moment when they would have to fight their own people, no matter how incompetent they might be. O’Reilly grimaced, not wanting to think about AEGIS fighting AEGIS. He’d given orders to wound, not kill, whenever possible, but it was likely that they wouldn’t be able to avoid a few deaths.

After a long descent, the elevator ground to a halt and Hodges drove them into one of the vehicle bays on the lower level. They’d still hardly seen any people, and even now, there was just the one person waving them into a spot. No one had inspected the cargo or even so much as glanced at the truck from town. They might as well not have bothered changing into the appalling uniforms, and O’Reilly fumed a little over that.

Hodges cut the engine of the Humvee, and the driver of the Toyota followed suit after pulling in on the driver’s side of the Humvee. The man who’d waved them in wandered over to O’Reilly’s side of the Humvee and put one foot on the siderail as he leaned toward the cab. O’Reilly tried hard not to gag on the stench of the man’s breath.

“They got you drivin’ now, Jeff? Movin’ up in the world, ain’t ya?” The man turned to say something to O’Reilly. “Hey, you ain’t—”

O’Reilly threw open the door, sending the man flying backward into the empty truck parked next to it. He stepped out and threw the man against the truck again as he started to slide down, then cracked him across the temple with a fist. The man dropped to the ground, unconscious.

“No, I ain’t,” he said, then spoke into his mic. “Everybody out.”

The men piled out of the truck and the Humvee and spread out to confirm no more guards or civilians were present. Soon enough, the word had come back that the bay was clear, and the men took up position near the entrance to the bay. O’Reilly turned to the admiral.

“Vehicle bay secured, sir.”

“Very good, Commander. See if you can send word topside to Juliet team and have them report in to the Council.”

“Yes, sir.”

As he stepped aside to make the call, O’Reilly saw the admiral have a quick whispered conversation with Hodges. Their driver went pale and held up his hands, wrists out. Graves nodded and produced some big zip-cuffs from a pocket on his uniform. They walked over to the Humvee, at which point Graves prodded the other man into the back of the Humvee.

The admiral zip-cuffed Hodges to one of the tie-downs on the deck of the Humvee and covered the back of the vehicle once more. Just before closing it, they had another whispered conversation, and Hodges shook his head fit to loosen it. Graves walked back toward O’Reilly, who sent word topside before the admiral returned.

“Everything copacetic, Commander?” Graves asked. “Do we have contact with Juliet? It’s pretty deep down here.”

“Yes, sir. The relay we set up at the top is working, and Juliet has received and transmitted the message. They’ll report in when they have an answer.”

“Good.” He looked at the large bay door and the rest of the vehicle level stretching beyond it. “Let’s hope the rest is this easy.”

Level Forty-Four
Presidential Command Center
Bunker Five

Like the rest of the bunker, the hallway leading to the presidential command center had seen better days. Graves and his men had been lucky so far and encountered almost no resistance, but that was due to simply bypassing most of the levels. They’d found a few wandering technicians and some others who were out and about. They’d all been captured and secured as the teams moved through the facility.

Like most of the other bunkers, vehicles were stored on the bottom levels here. It had only taken them a few minutes to hack into the computer systems and discover that the presidential command center was just one floor up from the vehicle bay, at the same end of the facility but set off from everything else by a corridor that led straight there.

But you never knew when someone could pop out and get you in the back, especially when they were approaching the bunker-within-a-bunker. He didn’t understand why there had been such a lack of people, but he’d take his blessings where he could get them. So far, there had been no casualties, but several bunker personnel were going to wake up with headaches.

“What do you think, Jack?” he asked his XO.

“I think now would be an excellent time for me to head up to Ops, sir. I’ll take Juliet and leave you with Hotel and Indigo.”

“That’s gonna be a long climb. You think the resistance will be heavier here?”

“Yes, sir. It’s where I’d put my men, sir. They have to have seen us on the monitors by now, and we should be expecting shots at any moment.”

Graves grunted. “Agreed. Make it happen, Commander.”

O’Reilly spoke into his mic. “Hotel and Indigo teams, form up on the admiral. Juliet, you’re with me. Move out.”

Six of the soldiers split off with the commander as he moved back down the hall toward the emergency stairwell. They’d come up that way from the vehicle bay to avoid making a racket and to reduce interaction with bunker personnel. Of course, that was after the acetylene torch they’d brought—just in case—cut through the rusted-shut stairwell access door. If there’d been an actual emergency… it didn’t bear thinking about.

“Move forward in twos. Standard close-quarters drill, gentlemen. Go!”

His disciplined soldiers hustled down the hallway, taking it in turns to cover each other. The doors on either side of the hallway remained closed, but pairs of soldiers settled in to watch those, regardless. Graves strode down the hallway after it was secure and joined the four men left at the end, outside the command center door. When he tried the door handle, he wasn’t surprised to find it locked. He motioned to his resident code cracker, and the man moved up to the lock with his equipment. A few moments later, he looked up at Graves with a shake of his head.

“Sorry, sir, no can do. This thing has some seriously high-level encryption. Nothing I’ve got is gonna crack it… or at least, not quickly.”

“What about blowing it?”

The soldier shook his head. “I doubt it, sir. The door’s thicker than most, from what I can tell, probably because it’s the president’s, sir. Although…” The soldier tilted his head, looking at the door as he thought.

“Although?”

“Well, sir, we didn’t bring any with us, or at least not to the bunker, but if we could find some det-cord, we could get it done. Chain some Semtex, which we do have.”

“Can’t we just use the Semtex?”

“Well, sure, but it’s much less controlled—”

“Son, do I look like I care about control at this point?”

The soldier shook his head. “No. No, sir, you do not. But it could kill anyone inside.”

“Then they’d better get the hell back. Get it done.”

“Yes, sir,” the soldier said. He looked at the others. “Clear out.”

Graves and the others moved back down the hallway to safety. As the soldier turned to take cover with them, Graves had an idea.

“Wait one,” Graves said. He walked back down the hall to the door. Careful to avoid the Semtex attached to the door, he knocked. He took out his sidearm, waited a few seconds, then knocked again with the gun pointed at head height.

Surprising even Graves, there was a creak from the other side of the door, and it opened a few inches. There was a sultry voice from inside. “Yes, what is—Eek!”

Graves had never heard anyone actually say “Eek!” before, and it took him aback for a moment, but he rallied. “Open the door, right now… or I will shoot you in the head, right now.”

The girl trembled but stepped back and opened the door the rest of the way. Graves motioned to his men without looking behind him, and as they moved up, he stepped into the command center. He glanced over at the woman who’d opened the door, who wore skimpy lingerie that was ill fitting. Tall with long, dark hair and a nice figure, she had seen better days too.

The room was well appointed, or had been once. Wood paneling, plush furniture, chrome and brass and crystal. Yeah, this was a president’s command center. There were several doors leading off the room, and cursory investigation revealed a bathroom, a kitchen, and a briefing room filled with monitors and chairs, all dark and empty.

“Cherie, who is it? Peltmeyer? Tell him to come back later.”

The voice was thin and reedy and one that Graves recognized immediately. He motioned to his men to spread out and turned to look at Cherie, only to find she’d vanished. Either she’d ducked into one of the side rooms or she’d fled the command center altogether. Either way, it made no difference to him… unless she was running to tell someone else, someone who could bring the whole bunker down on their heads. He looked at the man nearest the door and whispered, “Find her!”

The man nodded and began to search, and Graves spoke into his mic.

“XO, we are inside. Say again, we are inside. Marnes is present.” Two clicks answered him, indicating O’Reilly had heard the message but couldn’t respond at the moment. That was good enough for Graves.

“Cherie? What’s taking so long?” Marnes’s voice came again from the bedroom, and the admiral moved toward the door. He readied his pistol once more, then kicked open the door and rolled through, like an old action movie. His entrance had the desired effect when Frederick Marnes shrieked and dove under the covers as though the hounds of hell were after him, which, given the circumstances, was somewhat accurate.

Graves glanced around the room. A fine layer of dust coated everything. Although there was opulence aplenty, there were no threats visible. “Clear! Secure the package!” he ordered. Several of his men entered the room, dragging the still-screaming Marnes from the bed.

Graves felt gratitude that the man was wearing pajamas, and he stepped up to the president as the soldiers held him. He still screamed, and Graves had had enough, so he silenced the man with a heavy slap across the cheek. Marnes’s head rocked back on his shoulders, and he was too surprised to keep screaming.

He wasn’t too scared to talk, though. “How dare you! Do you know who I am? Who the hell—”

“I dare because you’re an ass. And yes, I do know who you are, Mr. Marnes. As for me, my name is Admiral Jeremiah Graves.”

“You can’t ju—”

“All right,” Graves said, “that’s about enough of that. Gag him.”

The men holding him chuckled, and one took off his do-rag and stuffed it into Marnes’s mouth.

“XO, Marnes is secure. Say again, Marnes is secure.”

“Roger that, sir. We’re about to move on Ops on your go.”

“One second, Jack.” Graves turned to Marnes. “Well, ‘Mr. President,’ I’m happy to say that you’re under arrest.” Scorn and derision dripped from his words. Marnes continued shouting through his gag, but Graves ignored it. “You’re under arrest for treason against the United States of America, corruption, being a dick, and a whole host of other things. I don’t know what we’re going to do with you, because that decision is well above my pay grade. That said, I will have some influence, so if you’re nice and respectful—something I know is hard for you—then I’ll put in a good word. Until then, I just need to ask you one question and one question only. If you don’t give me a straight answer, my recommendation will be… unpleasant.”

Graves took a step forward and looked Marnes in the eye, and for a wonder, the weasel shut up. “Do we understand each other, Frederick? Nod once if you agree.”

Marnes nodded one time and shuddered.

Graves sniffed the air as the sharp scent of urine hit his nose, and he glanced down. “I suppose we do understand each other, Frederick.” He stepped back. “The one question I need to know the answer to is this: where is the nuclear football?”

The soldier pulled the rag out of Marnes’s mouth, and the former president breathed in deep breaths. “I don’t know.”

“That’s not the answer I was hoping for,” Graves said. He shook his head and motioned to the soldier.

“Wait! Wait! Just wait. I don’t know where it is because they took it away from me.”

Graves raised an eyebrow. “They took it away from you? Who’s they?”

“That ass Peltmeyer and his goons. They’ve kept me locked up here for more than a year. They only let in Cherie, and then only for a day out of every month.” Marnes looked around, and his head snapped from one side to the other. “Where is she? You haven’t hurt her, have you? Oh, Cherie! Where are you?”